


Sick Day

by KaoticLoki



Series: Sick or Sane [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Love, Brothers, Friendship, Gen, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Sick Loki (Marvel), gods can get sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaoticLoki/pseuds/KaoticLoki
Summary: Loki vs Midgardian Bacteria.Part 1 of the Sick or Sane series. If you would like to submit a prompt, send me an email at you.mewling.quim@outlook.com





	Sick Day

Loki hated rain, he decided. He specifically hated rain in New York. Midgardian weather was as unpredictable as Brunnhilde’s mood swings and, when it was cold in this city, it was frigid to even the likes of a frost giant. Today, the cold was accompanied by freezing precipitation that was chilling him to the bone.

 

Still, he walked, savoring every second of quiet he could manage when outside Avengers mansion. Seven months since he had unleashed Surtr on Asgard. Four since their ship had crash landed in what Tony Stark had called Central Park. The clean-up was an ongoing effort. It had taken several negotiations and a few well placed lightning strikes for Thor to convince SHIELD and the Avengers that Loki was no longer a threat to their planet. He himself even sometimes wondered if his brother had been bending the truth a little. Still, any desire to rule had long since dissipated. Any mischief would be for mere entertainment at best. He had to keep his skills sharp, after all.

 

The trickster coughed into the bend of his right arm, keeping gloved hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie. The barking fit reminded him of the rawness of his throat and the heat that felt trapped inside his head. It was a terrible feeling that had come on the night before as nothing more than a tickle in his chest and an uncomfortable grating when he swallowed. When he had awoken, after only a few hours, he felt overheated yet he shivered. He had thrown on a hoodie over his shirt and sweats and made a cup of tea in hopes of soothing the razor blades in his throat. Unfortunately, he only managed two sips before nausea had washed over him so unexpectedly that he had nearly doubled over from the cramps in his gut.

 

Loki felt terrible.

 

The walk was probably not the best idea. He had originally thought that the fresh air would be beneficial. _‘Not in the slightest,’_ he thought bitterly as he coughed again, this time covering his mouth with his right palm. He lowered his hand to his throat with a wince.  The pain was worsening. A throat-punch from his brother would be preferable to this. The need for solitude forgotten, he teleported back to the mansion, materializing on unsteady legs. He nearly pitched forward but quickly righted himself and opened the door.

 

 _“Good morning, Mr. Odinson.”_ The ever-watchful AI greeted him promptly.

 

“Jus…” His voice wheezed and cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Just Loki." Still rougher than he'd like, but he wouldn't further waste his breath. He knew FRIDAY would continue to use the title.

 

_“I detect your core temperature is currently registering at 102.4 degrees Fahrenheit.”_

 

“I'm aware.” He all but whispered whilst stepping onto the elevator. Sweat was beading on his brow and his throat felt impossibly worse.

 

_“The average normal human body temperature is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Elevated body temperature that goes above 102 degrees Fahrenheit is a cause for concern and treatment should be initiated, Mr. Odinson, in case of viral or bacterial infection.”_

 

Loki rolled his eyes, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His throat was too raw to argue with Stark’s eerie intelligent voice in the ceiling.

 

_“I shall alert Sir and your brother, so that they may-"_

 

“No!” He barked, dropping his hand to glare at the top of the elevator. He winced at how his voice grated his sensitive esophagus.

 

_“Your core temperature is now 102.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Are you certain?”_

 

“Yes, yes,” Loki, eyes closed, waved dismissively. “I'm fine. Nothing that I cannot handle.” There was silence overhead now and he breathed a sigh of relief. That was all he needed; the Avengers fussing over him as if he were a child. He was a god and no Midgardian illness could best the likes of him. Besides, it was merely 6:02 a.m. If he were lucky, his comrades would still be on their designated floors and he could make another attempt at tea.

 

The trickster sniffled as the bell chimed and the doors parted to reveal a single bright blue eye, shining with worry.

 

“Brother, where have you _been_?!”

 

So much for his peaceful tea time. The younger god sighed while removing his gloves and brushed past his sibling, each step slow and deliberate to hide his unsteady gait. “Don’t fret so, Thor.” Damn his scratchy voice. “I merely stepped out for some air.” Loki busied himself preparing the tea, silently hoping that Thor would accept his answer without hesitance.

 

“You do not sound normal.”

 

Damnit.

 

“And you look terrible.”

 

“You flatter me.” Loki deadpanned, pausing his ministrations to emphasize the sarcasm with a glare. Thor’s single blue eye was bleeding concern. _‘Ugh.’_ When had Loki grown so soft?  “I feel a bit ill. Nothing to warrant all _that_.” He gestured toward the Thunderer with a spoon.

 

“You should see a healer.” Thor suggested while pulling out a chair at the large table. He waited for Loki to turn and gestured for him to sit, earning a dramatic eye roll for his trouble.

 

“A _Midgardian_ healer. Brother, you’ve gone quite mad.” The prince bypassed his king and rounded the table to take a seat on the other side. Thor gave him a look too weak to be a glare, but then took the offered seat himself.

 

“A least let Banner take a look at you.”

 

“No.” Loki sipped his tea, unable to suppress the grimace when he swallowed. _Damn,_ that truly did hurt. Any hope that Thor hadn’t noticed was quickly dashed.

 

“I’m getting Banner.” Thor stood, the chair flying back from the movement.

 

“No, Thor.” Loki’s head was absolutely pounding now, his throat pulsing and hot. Maybe he _should_ submit to seeing a healer. He dismissed the notion with the slightest shake of his head. He simply needed his overbearing oaf of a brother to leave him be, so that he could finish his tea and sleep for a few years. “My reserves are spent. I simply need to rest and I will be good as new.”

 

“One day.” The Aesir king crossed his arms over his chest.

 

Loki paused with the cup to his lips. “What?”

 

“I’ll give you one day, Loki. If this...sickness has not left you or has worsened, I’ll command you to see a healer.”

 

“I’m sorry. You’ll... _command_ me?” The trickster seethed, lowering the cup. Who did Thor think he was?

 

“I am Asgard’s king.” Oh. Right. The two glared at each other a few beats longer before Thor’s arms fell to his sides. “But I am also your older brother and I’m concerned.”

 

Loki’s schooled mask cracked. Damn that muscled buffoon. “Fine.” He croaked, abandoning the remainder of his tea. He was feeling worse by the minute and entertaining his sibling wasn’t exactly helping. Thor smiled, knowing exactly what he had done, and turned to follow his brother to the elevator. Loki boarded but Thor remained outside, using his arm to hold open the doors.

 

“Get some rest, brother. Don’t hesitate to have FRIDAY summon me if needed.”

 

Loki rolled his eyes and knocked his brother’s arm away from the door. If Thor was offended (which Loki would wager he wasn’t), his stupid smile never faltered. Once the doors closed, the young god’s shoulders slumped and he allowed his head to rest against the right side of the elevator.

 

_“Mr. Odinson,”_

 

Loki nearly jumped out of his skin, glaring daggers at the lift’s ceiling while allowing the one that had materialized in his grip to fizzle out of existence. “Yes, infernal voice?” He hissed, rubbing at his temples. If he kept his eyes closed, the world didn't seem to tilt so drastically.

 

_“Your temperature now registers at 103.3 Fahrenheit. I recommend seeking-"_

 

He materialized in Central Park, staggering indignantly toward the remaining wreckage of the refugee ship. Stark’s AI would eventually alert the others, with or without his consent. Exactly what he _didn't_ need. He could lie low here and get some rest. He felt a small pang of guilt at leaving Thor to worry over him, but the elder had forgiven Loki for faking his own death (somewhat...That stab wound really _did_ hurt), so some quiet recuperation from a nameless germ would be a breeze to overlook.

 

Now...he just needed to make it inside and to a halfway decent bed. Black spots were dancing at the edge of his vision, another coughing fit bringing tears to his eyes as he put out a steadying hand against the wall. Once the episode subsided, he eased forward, his palm against the cool metal keeping him upright. Saliva built in his mouth, but he refused to swallow against the hot agony deep in his throat. Nose wrinkled in disgust, he turned his head and spat onto the floor. _‘How unbecoming.’_

 

Now, he was certain this was death.

 

He stumbled into the first room he came upon, not even sure where he was on the half deconstructed vessel. As long as there was a bed… Not quite. A single mattress was tilted against the wall, a blanket lying on the floor in front of it, and the God of Mischief found himself wondering if he even had the strength to push it over. He leaned heavily against the wall, pulling in deep breaths through his nose. Even breathing through his mouth was beginning to irritate his throat. He gave the mattress a weak shove, not even watching it fall flat onto the floor as he flattened his back against the wall and slid down to the floor. Suddenly, he no longer cared about comfort and simply wanted to close his eyes. He reached to pull the blanket haphazardly over him, his teeth nearly chattering from his chilled core.

 

Even as he gave in and welcomed the darkness, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever wake again…

 

* * *

  


Loki had awoken on the floor of the refugee ship a full day later, a little disoriented and chilled but feeling much better. Had he been mortal, he may have perished from the low temperatures inside his hunk of metal makeshift hideaway. Upon teleporting back to the mansion, he had immediately been interrogated by the occupants; accused of mischief and schemes. Oh, the faith his “teammates” had in him. It was inspiring. Not. The trickster argued that he had simply needed some peace and quiet. Thor had promptly threatened to have Stark fit him with a tracking device but had otherwise allowed the issue to dissipate.

 

Now, over a week later, Loki sat next to the window, knees drawn up with a book open across them. The Avengers were partaking of a _Harry Potter_ marathon in the same room, but the prince hardly paid them any mind. Although he enjoyed the time to himself, he had been attempting more socially outgoing ventures...such as movie night. Today, however, he was feeling...unlike himself. He was tired. He ached all over, but his joints were especially painful. He found himself absently flexing his wrist, rotating his shoulder, or bending a knee to relieve the constant dull throb. He couldn’t be getting sick again...right?

 

“Loki?”

 

He looked up silently, his thoughts shoved aside for the moment, to find Natasha staring at him, eyes narrowed. Her green gaze held something akin to concern, but also suspicion. But why?

 

“Yes?” He broke the silence, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow. She stared for a moment longer before smiling, the gesture holding a gentleness that betrayed her character.

 

“I asked if you’d like to join us?” The agent motioned toward the living area. The picture on the television had gone still and all eyes were on Loki. Nervousness twisted in his gut, but he kept his expression neutral, border-lining uncaring. Years of practice and whatnot.

 

“Thank you but no.” He looked back to his book. There was a brief moment of silence where he could feel their lingering gazes, but then the movie was restarted. Judging by the bare feet that were still in his peripheral vision, Natasha had not yet moved.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Loki fought the urge to sigh. “Solving world hunger, Agent Romanoff.” He spared her a glance while suppressing a smirk. “I’m reading. What does it look like I’m doing?”

 

“You’re _obviously_ reading, Loki.” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded toward him. “I mean, _that_ . Why are you doing _that_?”

 

Loki was confused. He tilted his head and opened his mouth to question, but soon realized to what she was referring. He had his arm raised slightly, rotating his wrist and flexing his fingers. He quickly ceased the motion. “Stiff.” He waved her off and looked back to the pages in front of him. His answer must have satisfied her. A moment later, she was back on the couch, comfortably perched between Banner and Thor.

 

The Prince soon found his gaze transfixed on the television. His head rested against the wall, book long forgotten next to his outstretched legs. He had seen the boy wizard movies before, thanks to Stark’s incessant raving about how Loki would have so much in common with the characters. Truthfully, he didn’t _not_ enjoy them. He’d just never let Stark know that, of course. However, the film was doing little to entertain him at this point. His eyes were feeling heavy, a dull throbbing gaining momentum just behind them.  

 

He _could_ spare some time for a nap. His housemates would be occupied for hours with their marathon and they had already made an attempt at encouraging him to join them. Loki closed his eyes and wiggled his nose when he felt a tickle inside. He turned his head toward the window, only opening his eyes when he felt something warm on his top lip. _‘What…’_ He pressed his fingers to his mouth and studied the blood that came away on them. His nose was bleeding. _‘Great,’_ he scowled and pushed to his feet, _‘not even one Midgardian year and I'm falling apart like a mere mortal.’_

 

The Prince kept his face turned, hidden, as he shuffled toward the bathroom. The bleeding stopped easily enough, but Loki still felt uneasy. He was still exhausted and beginning to feel dizzy and overheated. The mirror revealed a pale man with tired eyes, a light flush in his cheeks. He looked awful and was bitterly reminded of the illness he thought he had bested only several days earlier. Maybe he _should_ heed Thor’s advice, albeit late, and consult Banner.

 

“Loki!”

 

Thor’s booming voice echoed with urgency from outside the door. Loki barely had time to dispose of the bloody tissues before his brother forced his way inside. “There is this thing called knocking, Thor. I suggest you familiarize yourself with it sometime.”

 

“We have a situation. Suit up and head to the roof.”

 

With a dramatic eye roll that nearly sent him reeling, the sorcerer was in his full black and green armor (minus the helmet...his head hurt way too much for that today) with a wave of his hand. He followed his brother and fell in line with the others, staying back as they loaded onto the elevator.

 

“I’d rather not.” With another wave, he materialized at the landing pad on the roof and stalked up the open hatch to take a seat on the quinjet. Barton was positioned in the pilot’s seat, preparing for takeoff, while Loki secured the earpiece they insisted he wore. “What’s is this about?” He asked blandly, taking the moment to attempt to compose himself before the rest of the team joined them. He was feeling...bizarre. There was a strange fluttering in his chest that didn’t exactly hurt, but was...uncomfortable.

 

“Reports of Chitari running amuck in Jersey. Stark doesn’t think Thanos is involved...yet. So, scouts, maybe?”

 

“Perhaps.” Loki wheezed.

 

Barton didn’t miss the way the trickster rubbed his chest. “You alright?”

 

“Perfectly fine.” He answered with his usual confidence, his hand lowering to rest on his lap. Clint shrugged and turned as the remainder of the team flooded onto the craft, with the exception of Stark, who (as usual) opted to fly solo. Honestly, Loki could have teleported and saved himself a boring ride cramped inside a jet with the Avengers (minus Banner, who only hulked out when absolutely necessary), but given his current state, he wasn’t sure he could have pulled it off. He would have probably ended up at the bottom of the ocean.

 

The others spent the flight discussing strategies and Plan B’s. It would have been beneficial to participate, some part of his brain argued. However, the lure that was the back of his eyelids was far more appealing.

 

“We’re taking fire!”

 

The sudden turbulence would have sent him crashing to the floor if not for the belts across his shoulders.

 

“Loki, were you just _sleeping_?!” Thor eyed him, mouth agape.

 

“Of course not, idiot.” He was. He knew it. When he released the safety belts and tried to stand, the area around him tilted dramatically. _‘The turbulence,’_ he reasoned. It definitely had _nothing_ to do with the stiff soreness that had become his legs or the raging inferno that was cooking him inside his own skin. While his teammates shrugged on their parachutes and his brother’s electric power buzzed to life, Loki disappeared in a shroud of gold and green, teleporting himself into the fray.

* * *

  


 

The battle was short but no less intense. The Chitauri soldiers appeared to be scouting the area. Thanos’ arrival was drawing ever nearer. Their numbers had been few but they were heavily armed, ensuring they were at least somewhat of a challenge. Loki stood above the enemy he had just managed to drop, breathing heavily. The exertion had left him disoriented and weak, barely able to remain upright. Perhaps it was time to return to the quinjet and let the others deal with the stragglers. The trickster wiped the sweat from his brow with a grimace. He was _definitely_ paying a visit to Banner the moment they arrived back at the mansion.

 

_“How are things where you are, Merlin?”_

 

Loki could hear Stark through his earpiece before he caught sight of him overhead. Unfortunately, tilting his head back was not exactly wise. The image of Iron Man twisted and swirled and the ground seemed to tilt upward. The prince stumbled to one knee. “Things are...I…”

 

_“Yo, Lokes. You doing okay?”_

 

“I…” Loki tried to focus on Tony again, though he wasn’t sure where they were anymore. His mind was a complete fog that made way for only pain and exhaustion. “Why...am I...?” He had known only a moment ago, but known what? Panic began to twist in his gut, and Loki grew concerned that he may vomit. He was vaguely aware of Tony landing a few feet away to approach slowly.

 

“Loki, can you answer me, bud?” The visor was up now, allowing the god of mischief a clear view of Tony’s face...except the young prince seemed to be staring right through him. “Loki?”

 

There was the briefest expression of terror before recognition finally reflected in dull green orbs. “Stark.” The trickster breathed. Before Tony could affirm, Loki’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the side in a heap.

 

“Shit!” Tony moved quickly, closing his visor as he sat on his knees above the unconscious god. “FRIDAY, give me something! Thor! Loki’s down!”

 

_“How badly is he injured?”_

 

Tony’s brow knitted. “Just a few cuts and bruises. I don’t see anything serious, but, uh, he looks terrible.” And he did. Loki was pale aside from the flush in his cheeks and the dark circles that accented his fluttering eyelids. He hadn’t looked this way earlier, had he?

 

_“Sir, Mr. Odinson’s heart rate is dangerously high at 206 beats per minute. His current body temperature registers at 104.3 degrees Fahrenheit. Shall I summon emergency medical services?”_

 

“No time for that!” Tony knelt and gently lifted the god, his concern growing as Loki’s head lolled against the armor of his chest. “FRIDAY, use the back thrusters. Thor, I’m getting Loki to Banner. I think you guys can handle everything here.”

 

_“Stark, how is my brother? Stark!”_

 

“Disconnect comms.” Tony hated ignoring Thor’s pleas for information, but there was nothing he could say that would have alleviated the thunderer’s concern. Loki looked like death. His body trembled in such a way that Stark could feel the vibrations through his armor. The god’s breathing was labored and uneven, a blue tinge taking hold of his lips. “Do another scan and put thrusters to full capacity.”

 

_“Sir, I would advise against increasing speed. Mr. Odinson would be in possible danger.”_

 

“He’s already in danger, FRIDAY! Just do it!”

 

 _“Increasing thrusters to max capacity.”_ A beat of silence. _“Sir, Mr. Odinson’s heart rate is now at 223 beats per minute.”_

 

“Shit! Get Banner in the med bay!” Tony felt the exact moment the trembling became something more. Something much worse… “He’s seizing! Damnit, Loki, don’t you check out on me! You hear me, Reindeer Games?! You hold on! Loki!”

 

* * *

  


So, this was death.

 

He’d been here before, but didn’t recall it being quite so noisy. Or bright. Wait… he felt pain. Nothing substantial, just a pinch in the crook of his elbow. How annoying. One shouldn’t feel pain when dead. The voices around him were hushed tones. He hated when people whispered around him, but could he ask them to kindly shut up? Can one even speak when dead? Ugh, dying was tedious and he was bored. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could find the darkness and hide.

 

He didn’t have to try very hard at all.

 

The next time he was aware of himself, he decided to try and open his eyes. Thankfully, the brightness was gone, but he had no idea where he was. Definitely not dead, though. He was warm and breathing no longer felt like a chore. The pain in his joints was no longer a lingering ache, just a dull throb every now and again, but his body did hurt. His muscles felt tired and overused.

 

“Loki.”

 

Blinking seemed to take forever, but he finally focused on the man at his bedside. Thor was there. But Thor hadn’t spoken. Who else…? He slowly dragged his eyes away from the Aesir king and let them settle on the man at his feet. Stark.

 

“Good to see you awake.” Tony’s arms were crossed and, for once, his face held nothing but seriousness. “We thought we were too late.”

 

“Wha-” Was that really _his_ voice? Thor left his side and returned with a small cup, saying nothing as he placed a hand behind Loki’s head and tilted the cup to his lips. The prince drank greedily, biting back a whimper when the cup was taken away. Thor sat back down and laid his arms across his knees, still not speaking but listening intently. Loki looked back to Tony and tried again. “What...happened?”

 

“I am _so_ glad you asked!” The billionaire began to pace at the foot of the bed, hands now clasped behind his back. “You see, we all thought you had been acting a little strange over the past few weeks. More _you_ than usual. But because you’re...well, _you_ , we disregarded it and went about business as usual.” Tony turned, expression tight and grim. “Then you fucking _collapsed_ during a fight.” Loki flinched under Stark’s scrutiny, not even daring to look to Thor at that moment. “I flew you back here, where you nearly _died_ before I could even get you inside the building. Remember any of that?”

 

Loki shook his head, a jerking motion that barely registered.

 

“Nothing? Okay, well, let’s continue.” Stark was back to pacing. “Bruce ran a buttload of tests while I got to deal with brother dearest nearly tearing down the mansion in his worry for you. When everyone got back, we began to put together a few pieces of a puzzle known Loki.” He stopped again, leaning over the foot of the bed. “Thor tells us you were sick a few days ago. Natasha and Barton both saw you acting strangely before we flew to Jersey. So, after getting the scoop on what everyone knew, Bruce narrowed it down and ran the right test.”

 

Loki raised a brow and waited, not trusting himself to speak at that moment.

 

“Do you know what strep is, Loki?” The trickster shook his head again. “It’s a bacterial infection. One that I’m willing to bet my billions you would have tested positive for if you had opened your mouth and let someone know you were that sick.”

 

“It was a mere…”

 

“I’m not finished, Loki.” Tony glared at him for a moment, ensuring he would not argue. “Strep needs to be treated with medications called antibiotics. If not, your body produces its own little warriors to fight off the bacteria… but ends up fighting itself. Bruce called it rheumatic fever.” Loki looked confused and Tony wished Bruce had been available to explain this part. “Your body started attacking its own tissue and joints, which is why your wrists and knees hurt. Your _chest_ hurt because the antibodies were attacking the tissue around your heart, Loki. Your _fucking heart._ ”

 

Loki stared intently at his lap, not sure what he could say or do to alleviate the tension in the room. He, the god of mischief, suddenly felt like a child and, though he didn’t like it, he had to admit that he deserved this lecture. Should he apologize? Would it even be meaningful to do so at this point? As his mind waged war with itself, Tony had moved to sit next to his leg, the dipping of the mattress bringing the trickster’s attention back to the conversation at hand.

 

Tony sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “We’re not angry that you were sick, Loki. We’re all angry that you didn’t feel like you could come to us.” Loki’s eyes narrowed, as if waiting for the catch. Tony sighed again, this time pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re an Avenger now, Lokes.”

 

“I’m not...one of you.”

 

“You’re not? News to me.” Tony scoffed with feigned surprise. “You go on missions with us. You’re left to your own devices. You come and go as you please. You don’t exactly sound like a prisoner, so what would you call it?”

 

“Being useful?”

 

“Cut the bullshit, Loki. You’re dark and broody, we get that. It’s who you are, but, like it or not, you’re an Avenger. You’re the dark and broody Avenger!” Finally, a bit of the real Tony Stark. “We are a team and we take care of our own.”

 

Before Loki could retort, Stark rose from the bed and patted his knee. Then he left. He had been so concerned with punishing himself for his past sins that he never even noticed that they had accepted him. Not just tolerated, but _accepted._ He had a place, a purpose, and he was more than Thor’s brother. Speaking of... Loki _still_ couldn’t bring himself to look at his brother. Thor had remained silent, which was unnerving in and of itself. The younger god began to wonder if he was going to be on the receiving end of some serious lightning.

 

“Look at me.”

 

Loki didn’t and he wasn’t sure why. He had faced down Thor on many occasions for much smaller sins. Why now did he fear looking at his brother?

 

“I said look at me, Loki.”

 

This time, he obliged. Loki was surprised to see no anger in Thor’s expression, just pure unadulterated worry with a hint of relief.

 

“Don’t _ever_ downplay something like that again.” Loki merely nodded, noting that Thor just barely seemed to be holding it together at this point. “I thought, after all we’ve been through, that I was going to lose you to some earthly illness simply because you were too proud to admit you needed help.”

 

“I was just…”

 

“Stop, Loki. No excuses.” Thor rubbed a hand over his face and it was then Loki noticed just how tired his brother looked. Had he slept at all these past few days? “I was _right there._ I was pleading with you to let me help, to give me a chance to be the brother I should have been all those years ago.”

 

“Thor, don’t.”

 

“It needs to be said, brother. I’ve gone far too long-”

 

“Don’t.” Loki pushed his palms against the mattress in an attempt to sit up, arms shaking from the small effort. When Thor stood and adjusted the pillows behind him, the tubing connected to his arm pulled uncomfortably. Loki grasped just below where the device entered his arm and readied to pull it out before Thor’s larger hand wrapped around his own. He didn’t argue, simply letting go. He knew that intravenous medications were there to help and if Thor wasn’t concerned, he should just leave it be...for now. “I admit that I should have listened when you told me to go see Banner.” Thor stared, eye narrowed, as if he was waiting for Loki to continue. “Do you want an apology?”

 

“No.” They stared at one another for a beat longer, Loki the first the look away. When Thor finally spoke again, it was barely a whisper. “I was terrified when I arrived back here and you were in such a state.” Loki felt an uncomfortable settling in his chest as Thor’s steady gaze continued to pierce him. He would blame the illness. “I just want you to understand that you are _not_ expendable, brother. Please, just...don’t run away next time.”

 

The prince cleared his throat and nodded, having a hard time selecting the right words. “I’ll try my best.” He offered and allowed his head to fall back onto the pillows, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier now that the tension was slowly bleeding from the room. Thor seemed satisfied with the response as he did not press the issue. Just as Loki allowed his eyes to close, his brother’s warm hand wrapped around the left side of his neck and gently squeezed, an old show of affection between the brother’s that was only displayed in their most private moments.

 

“Sleep well and heal, little brother.”

  
  
  



End file.
